Bill Lyons Monsignor James Dorney, at left, shares his recollections of Sept. 11, 2001, as Dennis McKeon, Hesham El-Melisy and Ira Goldstein look on during a tribute event at the College of Staten Island, Willowbrook.

Five ordinary people -- a firefighter's wife, an insurance company employee, a Lower Manhattan resident, a Sanitation worker and an office manager -- took to a stage here Saturday and told remarkable stories, witness accounts that thrust those listening into the terrifying maelstrom that was Ground Zero on September 11, 2001.

As stark images were projected on a large screen behind them, the five described, simply and directly, what they had seen and heard and smelled and felt on that devastating day and beyond.

And although their audience in the Center for the Performing Arts at the College of Staten Island in Willowbrook was embarrassingly small, the intense focus of everyone in the Lecture Hall could not be shaken from that stage.

Gerry Bogacz, Donna Kaz, Ann Van Hine, Anthony Palmeri and Desiree Bouchat are the ordinary people, members of "Performing Tribute," founded in 2008. In a performance piece called "9/11: ordinary people remarkable stories," they have gone throughout the tri-state area and the country, sharing their profoundly personal and painful oral histories with everyone from theater audiences to high-school students.

Sanitation worker Palmeri, who volunteered to help in the cleanup and recovery, broke down describing how, at an improvised morgue, he was handed the helmet and jacket of a firefighter whose body had been found, and how awful it was for him to accept that he had to throw it away.

Aon employee Desiree Bouthat recalled the "bathroom therapy sessions" when she and six colleagues -- 19 of their co-workers had been killed -- tried to put their working lives back together but were so frequently overcome by hurt and survivor guilt, they sought respite in that unseemly place.

Ann Van Hine described how, since her firefighter husband was a member of a Rescue Squad far away in the Bronx, for her two daughters' sake she hoped he didn't arrive at the Twin Towers until after they collapsed, even as she knew, in her heart of hearts, there was no way he would not have been there.

She recalled hearing that his body had been found whole, and how she was given 10 copies of his death certificate -- with homicide listed as his cause of death -- because officials knew she would need that many for the piles of paperwork she faced.

Gail Langsner, director of the group, read the words of Donna Laz, who lived 400 feet from Ground Zero and was trapped in her home by falling debris and smoke before she was able to escape -- and the apocalyptic scene that greeted her when she was allowed, with a police escort, to go back in for 15 minutes before becoming homeless and jobless for more than 15 months.

Office manager Gerry Bogacz described making his way down what seemed like thousands of steps out of his building into safety. And what it was like when, days later, he tried to inspire his workers at their new location in Queens, all the while realizing that their lives would never be the same.

They suffered nightmares, daymares, survivor guilt, posttraumatic stress -- so what brought them here, to this and other stages?

The power of listening, each said. Listening helps both those who are doing the talking and those who are hearing. The need to talk is individually healing, and listening makes for collective healing. It's also the search for acceptance. They know they will never fully get over what happened, but they want to focus on what lies ahead as well.

After their presentation, a panel consisting of Monsignor James Dorney, pastor of St. Peter's R.C. Church in New Brighton; Dennis McKeon of Great Kills, head of the volunteer organization, Where-to-Turn; Hesham El-Meligy of New Springville, a Muslim and a community and interfaith activist, and psychotherapists Ira Goldstein and Joyce Malerba-Goldstein of West Brighton talked about their reactions to the terrorist attacks and in the case of the therapists, offered options that could help people dealing with posttraumatic stress disorder.

For El-Meligy and other Muslim members of the audience who spoke up during the question-and-answer period, there was a crucial difference. They were subjected to harassment, violence and interrogation by the authorities even though they were American citizens.

But there is hope for collective healing.

Palmeri recounted his time on the pile from Hell, when he was surrounded by unimagined destruction and fell into despair. Then, looking around him, he saw the faces of hundreds of helpmates, and thought of the thousands who had come to New York City to help.

And Shahana Masum, an Island Muslim who, along with her son, then a boy, were castigated and harassed for something they never did, wants a better future: "We all should be 'we,'" she said.  